


Love's Admiration

by Valex_Charme



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Dialogue-Only, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:32:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valex_Charme/pseuds/Valex_Charme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Dear, child. See how Leto’s shining son holds tightly to that crown of laurel leaves. Hermes says he has just returned from Thessaly after chasing that darling daughter of Peneus. But the poor girl was so frightened of Apollo that she fled at the sight of his smooth face. I know you, my own archer, have toyed with Phoebus’ heart yet again!"</i> - Aphrodite</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I: Aphrodite & Eros

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in dialogue form.
> 
> I dedicate this to my friend Andrea. For all the years that girl has put up with me haha.
> 
> Disclaimer: No one can own the gods. I do not claim the works of poets before me as my own. This is merely an expression of my admiration for them.

Aphrodite: Dear child, see how Leto’s shining son holds tightly to that crown of laurels. Hermes says he has just returned from Thessaly after chasing that darling daughter of Peneus. But the poor girl was so frightened of Apollo that she fled at the sight of his smooth face. I know you, my own archer, have toyed with Phoebus’ heart yet again! 

Eros: Were his heart not so easy to pierce, he need not worry about my golden darts.

Aphrodite: Were he not so sorrowful I would applaud you, my brave child. Not many have crossed that fair Delian god and lived. What has the Far-Shooter done to earn your own dreaded arrows that cause man to lose his wits and even gods theirs? So enflamed was his passion for this Naiad that I cannot be sure whether you shot him with your golden arrow or if you had placed upon him your lit torch. But of Daphne I am sure; you have shot her with your leaden arrow. Within her bosom ignited a scorn so great she would rather be a tree than love even shining Phoebus whom so many have already loved before.

Eros: I pretend not that I am a warrior-archer like my latest victim. I do not plague Achaeans with pestilence and disease. I do not even shoot wild beasts like arrow-showering Diana beloved of the Arcadians. But my tasks are important, too, and my arrows strike true and purposefully. 

Aphrodite: They needn’t even strike. A prick is enough to cause their maddening effect.

Eros: True, mother. And yet, Apollo vexes me with taunts. Why, the other day, he asks what have I to do with weapons of war. Better I leave my bow and arrows in his capable hands he says! 

Aphrodite: I am sure it was in jest. Must you punish him so?

Eros: Yes! He boasts of his conquering of the Python at Delphi’s Castalian Springs. Such an old beast, that offspring of Gaia, that even I may have been able to slay it. He forgets that I have had victories over our Father Zeus whose shield resounds in thunder. Many forms have I forced Zeus to take: a swan for Leda, showering gold for Danaë, and an eagle for Ganymede! 

Aphrodite: Have a care what you say, dear Eros. Thundering Zeus has endured your many pranks but there is no telling if he shall have the patience for more.

Eros: No worries, mother. Zeus enjoys our spells more than he cares to admit.

Aphrodite: I suppose that is the reason that his thunderbolts have yet to strike you. But, darling boy, I think we have caused Leto’s son enough misfortune. Indeed, we have blessed him with so many to love but he has lost nigh all of them in some tragedy or another.

Eros: What do you propose I do, mother? Have I not earned the right to see him punished?

Aphrodite: Ah, but I think it is not to see him punished that you desire. I have seen the way you leave your playmate Hymenaios to watch Apollo gather the Muses to sing. 

Eros: What of it? I think their compositions are grand. And I am not alone in this. The Muses attract the attention of all who have ears to listen and eyes to see. Poets and musicians gather at my beloved Thespiae to celebrate them every five years. 

Aphrodite: A grand celebration it is, I have noticed. But then what of your gazing at handsome Phoebus as he strums his lyre when there are beautiful goddesses that dance around him? 

Eros: I admire his hands! That is all. How quick they strike each string and produce sweet songs. 

Aphrodite: Skilled his hands are, I agree. I seem to recall you gazing upon them once more a few days ago as Apollo practiced with his silver bow. I did not see you follow the arrow as it traveled to strike each target precisely at the center. And how far the targets were! All the way in Ionia where his sister has that grand temple at Ephesus.

Eros: I was distracted by how majestic Hephaestus’ work was and nothing more. The great smith made my bow, too, and I only wanted to see whose was better.

Aphrodite: And the verdict?

Eros: I cannot say.

Aphrodite: That is because you think the silver bow’s owner majestic, not his weapon. Oh, darling child, I had known for a while you were infatuated with Leto’s radiant son. Do not be ashamed. I do not disapprove.

Eros: It is not your approval I seek but his. Mother, he treats me like I am a child with toys. He regards my archery as inferior to his though I have shot more targets in my time than he. I only want him to look upon me with favour. But if he will not favour me, then I shall not favour him.

Aphrodite: Come here, sweet boy. Let us not be so petty like mortals; we are greater than that. I believe you may yet succeed in your endeavour for Phoebus’ affections.

Eros: How can I? He is in grief, and rightfully so I say!

Aphrodite: Hush. Leave behind your maddening arrows and your splendid bow. You will not need them when you speak with Phoebus. Instead, I will have soft-speaking Peitho accompany you should you lose your words. And your brother Himeros to carry his torch and make you desirable more than you already are. 

Eros: Must I go apologize to him? I would prefer not as I have lost my nerve. I fear he may strike me and I cannot imagine a worse outcome. 

Aphrodite: Not even were Athena to come and make good of her threats and rip away your wings so you may not fly too close to her?

Eros: Nay, mother. Not even that is worse than Apollo’s eternal scorn.

Aphrodite: Then you must go now lest he make up his mind permanently.

Eros: Very well.


	2. Part II: Apollo & Eros

Eros: For all your oracles in Greece and Asia, I find it ironic that you were unable to foresee Daphne’s fate.

Apollo: I see that you have come to brag about another one of your victories over me. Begone, winged fiend! Love blinds even the wisest of prophets. They cannot see what is before them if they are maddened by your spells. Man abandons the riches of the earth and the gods fall on their knees before you. I am thankful my divine sister is immune to your tricks.

Eros: Why do you say that? Do you not wish her married to a handsome hero that will pamper her? Perhaps that giant huntsman Orion whom your sister so often joins in hunt. 

Apollo: I certainly do not for you will only curse their union and cause her distress. She is perfect as she is, chaste and virginal. Should you even pull your string against her I shall pull mine against you. 

Eros: It is useless to think about anyway. Her heart cares only for the hunting of beasts and her holy groves. 

Apollo: But why are you here? Have you not caused me enough heartache? Many have you forced upon my heart and then cruelly taken them away. I curse the day you were given your wretched bow.

Eros: You brought it upon yourself! Much power I wield over you, yet you slight me so.

Apollo: Wretched child! You think you are innocent and immune from discipline because of your youth but I foresee a day when your own charms shall bewitch you. Your golden mother’s marble halls shall fall into disuse and you will eventually abandon your post. The earth will grow old and slowly wither and die. You will know loss as I know it now. 

Eros: It is impossible, what you say. My mother is beloved by the people of Greece and Rome, of Syria and Cyprus, of Asia and Europe. 

Apollo: I have seen it before me and I cannot lie. You cannot escape it. Finally, tears I see in your eyes. 

Eros: I do not wish to hear more. I have come to apologize but you only wish to see me pained. 

Apollo: Very well, I shall not continue my prophecy should I hear your apology.

Eros: It was not my intention for Daphne to cause you this much torment. I had not known that her father Peneus would take pity on her and turn her into a tree.

Apollo: I have made her my sacred tree and my priestess at Delphi shall burn her sacred leaves to receive my words. But what was your intention then?

Eros: I only wanted to teach you a lesson that I am not some youngster playing with tools of war. You plague man with illness but I shower them with love. The bow has many uses and it brings not only death but also life. If my shots were lethal like yours, then no one would fall in love and multiply. The earth would be a sad place. 

Apollo: A lesson I have not learned over and over again. It seems that you do not tire of teaching it after each lover has passed. 

Eros: I am sorry.

Apollo: Very well. I have learned my lesson. Though I suppose I must commend you on your aim. Many a time have you struck me and still I had not seen it coming. Oh, what is this? Why do you embrace me?

Eros: Finally you acknowledge me instead of teasing me. 

Apollo: My acknowledgement is what you sought? Wherefore?

Eros: I have admired you from afar, Phoebus. So grand are your talents! Singing, dancing, strumming your lyre. I can only dream of learning a tune to please your ears. Of prophesying, too, are you talented and you compete with Hermes in the games of the gymnasium. But shooting arrows is the only thing we have in common. I had thought should I impress you, you would surely look upon me with favour.

Apollo: Love has admired me? For how long? I had thought myself forever afflicted to be scorned by Love and his golden arrows.

Eros: I cannot say for certain when I have liked you. All I know is that I do.

Apollo: Silly, boy. Much pain you have caused me over the years. Why, I still cannot contain the grief I hold for the loss of Hyacinthus. So young was he when that fateful discus struck his temple, blown there fiercely by jealous Zephyrus. 

Eros: Do not worry, Phoebus. A discus cannot spill my blood for I have none. 

Apollo: Then perhaps our love shall withstand the test of time. Or will you forsake me like all the others?

Eros: I do not know. You are the prophet, why do you not tell me?

Apollo: I have tried to tell you an earlier prophecy but you dreaded to hear it. But an earlier point I said is true as well: Love blinds even the wisest of prophets. 


End file.
